Roadside Assistance by Amy Clipston

Author:Amy Clipston [Clipston, Amy]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Juvenile Fiction, General, Religious, Self-Help, Family & Relationships, Death; Grief; Bereavement
ISBN: 9780310577867
Publisher: Zondervan
Published: 2011-04-05T05:00:00+00:00

chapter eleven

The following morning, I slipped into the seat next to Logan at the end of the church pew. My father, Darlene, and Chuck were on the other side of Logan, and Whitney was in the back on the other side of the church with her friends. Cupping my hand to my mouth, I yawned. Zander and I had worked on his car until after midnight.

By the time I’d left to go home last night, we had the engine completely torn apart, but it would take quite a bit of time to rebuild it. The subject of God and faith didn’t come up while we worked on the car. Instead, we’d talked about less intimidating stuff — transmissions, music, movies, books, and school. It was a fun and easy discussion. I’d felt so at ease with him, as if I could say anything — except admit that I wasn’t sure I believed in God anymore. That was the one thing about Zander that kept me from completely opening up to him. I was sure he didn’t understand my doubts and would just keep giving me more advice that felt like empty platitudes. Thankfully, the key to steering clear of the topic of religion was to keep a wrench in Zander’s hands. I could handle that.

But I was paying for our time in the garage. This morning I’d had to drag myself out of bed and into the shower after Darlene knocked on my door. I considered feigning a headache and going back to sleep, but, truthfully, I’d come to church for one reason — to see Zander again.

How sacrilegious was that?

Pushing thoughts of Zander away, I busied myself with reviewing the bulletin for the service. I was studying it when I felt eyes staring at me. Glancing up, I found Zander smiling down at me. He wore a green collared shirt and tan Dockers.

“Hi,” I said, pushing a lock of hair behind my ear. I absently smoothed the skirt of the blue sundress Whitney had insisted I borrow from her.

“Is this seat taken?” he asked, gesturing toward the vacant spot next to me.

“No.” I pushed over, closer to Logan. “Sit.”

“Thanks.” He slipped in beside me, his leg brushing mine. He leaned over me and greeted Logan, my dad, and Whitney’s parents, all delighted to see him join us. “How are you?” he asked, turning back to me.

“Tired,” I admitted with a smile.

He chuckled. “You’re a master mechanic.”

“You’re just saying that because you want me to rebuild the engine,” I teased.

“Yeah, you’re right. You’re better at this stuff than I am.”

I waved the thought off. “Please. I’m sure you’ve been doing it longer than I have.”

“I think I was a little older when my grandfather put a wrench in my hand.” He flipped through the bulletin.

It suddenly occurred to me that I’d never asked him who’d taught him about cars. If his father was pushing him to go to medical school, than it couldn’t have been Dr. Stewart. There’d had to have been someone else, but Zander had never shared that information.

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